<table> </table> CHICAGO | Larry Johnson stood in the Soldier Field locker room and praised the offensive line.</p><p>Did you hear it?</p><p>If it was fuzzy or unfamiliar, lean in close now.</p><p>&#8220;It was crazy,&#8221; Johnson said, smiling after the Chiefs&#8217; first preseason game against the Bears. &#8220;There was excellent pass protection.&#8221;</p><p>Yes, that was Larry Johnson. The Kansas City running back has been called a malcontent and a whiner, a training camp holdout and a difficult teammate. He&#8217;s the one who was so frustrated with the Chiefs&#8217; play calling and blocking last year that he spiked a football during a game and screamed at coaches and offensive linemen &#8212;whomever would listen. Johnson had been tackled. in the backfield, and he was tired of it. That was last September.</p><p>And now, this?</p><p>&#8220;When we had to run the ball,&#8221; Johnson said in that locker room, &#8220;I had a lot of options as far as where I wanted to go.&#8221;</p><p>&#8226;&#8226;&#8226;</p><p>This is the new LJ. Or at least it is until it&#8217;s not anymore.</p><p>Here he is again, smiling and playing around with his teammates during training camp. There he goes, bumping into coaches and singing during drills.</p><p>The Chiefs&#8217; running backs sidle up to a &#8220;ladder,&#8221; an apparatus that tests players&#8217; agility. They run to one side, dipping their feet into the openings and moving them.</p><p>It&#8217;s Johnson&#8217;s turn.</p><p>Chiefs running backs coach Curtis Modkins blows a whistle, and Johnson is off. But he&#8217;s not quiet.</p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;m a maniac, maniac on the floor,&#8221; Johnson sings, his rendition of the song from the movie &#8220;Flashdance.&#8221; Another day, he&#8217;ll run the drill and mimic &#8220;U Can&#8217;t Touch This&#8221; by M.C. Hammer.</p><p>When Johnson is finished with the drill &#8212; and, for now, singing &#8212; he pulls off his Chiefs helmet and laughs, stumbling into a wall of teammates.</p><p>Johnson has spent the past six months talking about growing up and settling down, easing into the role of mentor for the Chiefs&#8217; young players and being the kind of teammate the Chiefshave wanted him to be since theydrafted him in 2003.</p><p>It&#8217;s one heck of a transition he says he&#8217;s made. The trick is making sure it lasts.</p><p>&#8220;We haven&#8217;t been in the war yet,&#8221; Chiefs guard Brian Waters says. &#8220;This is kind of the honeymoon stage with everybody. As the season goes on and things get a little bit tougher, that&#8217;s where you really judge the character of a man.&#8221;</p><p>&#8226;&#8226;&#8226;</p><p>There wasn&#8217;t much to smile about 10 months ago. The Chiefs were losing, and Johnson was injured. Last year might have been hismost difficult in Kansas City, and it definitely was his most controversial.</p><p>Last fall, he was linked with a rap song that took a resounding shot at Chiefs president Carl Peterson. Maybe that was Johnson&#8217;s voice on the track, the song that, between expletives, jabbed the general manager, the man Johnson blamed for not offering him a long-term contract. Nearly a year since the track, &#8220;Don&#8217;t H8,&#8221; was tied to Johnson, the running back&#8217;s teammates still aren&#8217;t interested in talking about it.</p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve never heard Larry spit,&#8221; defensive tackle and amateur rapper Tank Tyler says, pursing his lips. &#8220;Really.&#8221;</p><p>The Chiefs have moved past all that, and they&#8217;d like to think Johnson has, too. He got his contract, worth as much as $45 million, last summer after a brief holdout. He seemed rejuvenated. It was like he&#8217;d regained that passion he had a year earlier, and he was putting the Chiefs on his back &#8212; until something popped in one of his toes.